by Camden Mays
“Well it’s only for a couple of days. I have got a sense that you’ll be heading back out, so I feel like I owe you.”
“I appreciate it.”
“I’ll be in and out of the office today to take care of some personal matters. But keep me posted.”
Cole didn’t pry, even though he was certain the personal matters related to the death of Darcy Regis.
“Same here, ma’am. Let me know if you need anything.”
✽✽✽
Washington, DC
Congressman Scott Shepherd had on casual clothes, a baseball cap, and sunglasses as he sat at the bench in Lincoln Park waiting for Allen Beecham. Shepherd was in a tailspin. How had the idiot screwed the task up so badly? The representative’s life was hanging by a thread, and Beecham, the moron, sat at the other end with scissors in his hand.
The bulky man approached and flopped down on the bench. He didn’t bother to be sly or coy. He turned and directly faced Shepherd, no longer concerned for his former friend and employer, just himself.
“I’m going to need a lot more fucking money.”
“What the hell did you do last night? Wait, don’t answer that.” Shepherd looked around and even considered Beecham could be wired. “I asked you to deliver a message and . . .”
“The bitch pushed my buttons. She had to go. She never would have backed down. But I cleaned the place up and took her phone and laptop.”
“You have to disappear.”
“No shit. I need more money to do that. I’m unemployed, remember.”
“I can get thirty, maybe forty thousand out from different accounts without raising suspicion.”
“You’re not even in the ballpark.”
“You think I can pull money out from my ass.”
Well, you’ll start with fifty thousand, then you and your nefarious supporters will arrange an annuity fund of sorts that I’ll draw from monthly.” Beecham could see the anger being internalized and consuming Shepherd.
“Don’t worry, old buddy. I’ll try to keep the withdrawals at a moderate level to avoid causing you too much stress.” He patted Shepherd’s shoulder.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Well, just have that first installment here tomorrow at six in the morning. Oh, and let’s keep it businesslike. Remember, I have the laptop with all of Regis’s research notes on your slimy ass. God, she found shit I didn’t even know about. You really are one sick bastard.”
Beecham stood to leave.
“And to think all of this happened because four months ago you had us pick a fight with that CIA guy.”
“Yeah, and he kicked your ass!”
“Well, he may have kicked my ass that night, but he’s been kicking yours ever since.”
✽✽✽
Counterterrorism Center – Langley
Cole was worried that the team would not appreciate having to temporarily relocate and work from an ops room, but they seemed to like the change of scenery. He was in the middle of a briefing when Hannah confidently strolled into the familiar room that had been used for the interagency Titan Shield task force. The team welcomed her as she recognized some friendly faces.
“So this is the FBI girl,” one of the analysts said. He walked up to introduce himself.
“That’s funny,” Hannah said to the group standing around. “Everyone over there calls Cole the CIA guy.”
Sasha Liski arrived as the introductions concluded, and Hannah immediately recognized the posture and body language. Liski was attractive, and she knew it and would use it. The tall EU transplant was strong-willed and used to getting her way. Oh boy, she thought.
“Hello,” Liski said. “You must be the FBI girl.”
“Hmm, we were just talking about that. My name is Hannah Jacobs.”
“Oh Hannah, I couldn’t remember. Sorry that we’ve kept Cole out so much on these missions.”
“We make up for it when he’s home.” Hannah winked at Cole, and he chuckled.
Cole got everyone back on task, and they began processing the intel and looking for information that would indicate the whereabouts of the Lion of Aden. Amy showed Hannah her designated workstation, and she started sorting and working through reports to send to Eric Masters’s group at the NCTC.
The hulking Darryl Capps rolled a chair up next to Hannah and looked over his shoulder.
“You don’t have to worry about Matilda.”
“Matilda?”
“Liski,” he whispered.
“Darryl, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re afraid of her.”
“I ain’t gonna lie. She does scare me.”
“Thanks. I’m not worried. She’s not Cole’s type. Plus, he’s got me. I’ve spoiled him. He’ll never be able to go back to anything less,” she whispered.
“Uh-huh. You got that right.” Capps laughed. “He’s one lucky dude.”
The next couple of days were a blur of activity. Hannah and Cole stole a few breaks together, but other than that, they were so engrossed in their work that it didn’t even seem like they were together. Cole had to spend a good amount of time down in the den planning the next field ops with Capps, Wang, Robinson, Sinha, and now Liski. And it was Sasha Liski that seem to have objections about the plan at every turn.
At one point, even the mild-mannered Robinson seemed annoyed by her constant disruption. Bridgette turned to her and asked, “Why are you here anyway?”
Liski was an abrasive personality, and the team was learning that they had to deal with her in a direct way to get her attention. She hindered the flow of the team, and it was a growing concern for Cole.
Amy had passed along intel that Jamil Rasul, known to the team as the former personal assistant to Hasni, had traveled to Bandar Abbas, Iran and was back in Yemen.
“Maybe he’s the emissary we keep hearing about. If he is, he can lead us to the Lion. We need to get wheels up and get back to Al Mukalla,” Cole said.
Everyone agreed.
Cole made his way back up to the ops room where Hannah was working with analysts and asked to speak to her. She followed him out into the hall. It was the same one where they had first kissed, and Hannah touched the stone on her neck as she remembered.
“You’re going out, aren’t you?”
Cole nodded. “I’m going by the house first to pack a few extra things. Do you think you could break away and meet me there to say goodbye?”
“You mean give you a proper send-off?” she whispered. He looked around and smiled.
✽✽✽
Washington, DC
It was just a half hour before sunrise as Scott Shepherd sat on the park bench with the small black leather duffel bag next to him, stuffed with the cash Beecham had demanded. The night before, Shepherd had cut a small opening in the liner and concealed a tiny GPS tracking device inside. The gadget was about the size of a quarter and had a battery life of two weeks. Shepherd just needed to know where his wayward friend was staying. He checked the app on his phone once more to ensure it was working correctly.
The congressman anxiously looked around as the area began to show signs of life in the early morning. Then Allen Beecham appeared from the rear, ten minutes after the appointed time. He had hung back, making sure Shepherd was alone. He knew Shepherd didn’t like to get his hands dirty. He had plenty of creative ideas on how to play with no rules, but he always had relegated the actual work to people like Beecham.
“Shit, you scared me,” Shepherd said, releasing his grip on the bag.
“Had to make sure you didn’t bring anyone else.”
“You think I was going to tell anyone else about this problem? Way too risky. You better keep your mouth shut about it as well.” Shepherd pointed at Beecham.
“Is it all here?”
“Nearly. I could only get forty-six thousand yesterday.”
“Well, you can add the other four to my next installment.”
“Seriously?”
“You bet your ass I am. And you�
�ll pay interest as well.”
Shepherd gritted through his teeth, “Listen to me, you stupid bastard . . .”
“No, you listen to me, Congressman. You’ll do exactly as I say or I’ll serve you up on a platter. I’ve taken your shit long enough. You know what’s different now, Scott?”
Shepherd stared back but said nothing.
“I’ve killed someone. And I’ve got to tell you, it was quite exhilarating.” Shepherd moved his head back in disbelief. “So Scotty, trust me when I say I have no problem doing it again.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Beecham stood, grabbed the leather bag, and hawked a loogie near Shepherd’s feet as if to signal his disrespect and unwillingness to serve the will of his former friend. His days of capitulation were over.
“I’ll contact you in a couple of weeks to set up the next installment. Oh, and good luck on the Senate race.” Beecham walked away.
Shepherd sat for a few minutes contemplating his next steps. The sunrise began to cast its light against the top of the buildings near the park. He pulled his cell phone out and watched as the app displayed the moving position of the bag. Beecham had crossed a line, and now it was time to figure out how to end the game and rid himself of the liability.
Throughout the morning, Shepherd watched the blinking dot on the map. After three and a half hours, it stopped moving, and the congressman immediately recognized where Beecham was laying low.
Back in their college days, Beecham had taken Shepherd to his grandmother’s sparse three-acre place just south of Suffolk. They had done some fishing at a nearby wildlife refuge called the Great Dismal Swamp. Shepherd shuddered at the disgusting memory of the experience. He couldn’t wait to pay the traitor a surprise visit.
But he would have to wait. He had meetings scheduled for the next two days, and he needed a foolproof plan. His palms were sweaty as his anxiety rose. He pondered his capability of doing what needed to be done to protect his future. He called his favorite escort, Emma, and moved up their weekly scheduled rendezvous. She had a way of getting all of the stress out.
Chapter 20
Suffolk, Virginia – Near the Great Dismal Swamp
Shepherd crouched on the side of the manufactured home in the middle of the night. He could still see the lights flickering from the TV. He wondered if these lowlifes ever turned the damn box off. He snuck toward the window just as the lights inside the house finally shut off. He found a comfortable spot and waited another hour before approaching the door.
He crept toward the porch and froze as the lights on a car parked up the road blinked off and on. He spun to see who was around. No one. They flashed again.
What the hell?
He started to flee, and they blinked again. Shepherd decided whoever was in the car was signaling him. He cautiously made his way out to the lonely road and stood in the shadows as the car door opened and his chief of staff stepped out.
“Thomas?”
“There’s a better way to handle this, sir.”
“What? How did you—”
Thomas held his hand up. “It’s my job to know everything and to be your most trusted resource. Get in. Let me tell you what I’m thinking.”
The political Zen master had joined Shepherd’s staff at the insistence of one of his most influential donors. Shepherd had initially resisted the idea, preferring someone who had worked in his campaign. He came with an impressive résumé, but Shepherd knew it was a way for the donor to keep tabs on him and drive their agenda. The congressman relented to the board member of Haslet Securities, trusting that they were working a long game. Being aligned with financial juggernauts was the best option for going far in his political career. And Shepherd intended on going all the way.
Shepherd sensed he had underestimated his right-hand man. He sat in the car and listened with new appreciation as the chief of staff discussed his plan to eliminate the threat. In return, he would be guaranteed the ride to the Senate and hopefully, one day, even the White House.
✽✽✽
FBI National Counterterrorism Center
Except for her trip to Atlanta, the last two weeks had moved slowly for Hannah. Cole was off the grid on a mission with his team. She had appreciated the few days as a liaison at the CTC, but now she was back at her office. Her team at the NCTC was being pulled in to assist Masters’s group working on the AIJB as a priority after the car bombings. They were making progress, disrupting the network in different cities throughout the country. But Hannah’s role was diminished. Her director, Pershing, didn’t like the potential conflict of interest and kept Hannah on the sideline. Hannah wondered if that was why Pershing had asked to meet with her.
“Come in, Hannah.” Pershing motioned. “How did it go down in Atlanta?”
“Good, I think. I guess I’ll know in a couple of weeks,” Hannah said, taking a seat.
“I know we’ve handcuffed you here on the AIJB and pulled your team out. Nothing personal, I hope you understand.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, I wanted to meet with you because I heard from the SAC in Seattle. He’s an old friend. He’s short-staffed at the moment and looking for some help on some cases, preferably someone with counterterrorism experience. I thought since I’ve got your team with Eric, I’d send you out. It would probably just be for a couple of weeks. You up for that?”
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you need.”
Inside, Hannah thought, This better not turn into two months.
“Great. Let me get him on the phone now and introduce you two, and then you work out the details.” Pershing dialed out and put the call on her speakerphone. The introductions were made, and Hannah offered to fly out the next day, but the Seattle SAC suggested that she fly out on Monday and start the following day since they were heading into Labor Day weekend. The call ended, and Pershing suggested Hannah take the next couple days off.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Hannah got the sense that her mentor was looking to reassign her sooner rather than later. She regretted disclosing her desire to move on from the NCTC.
✽✽✽
Beirut, Lebanon – US Embassy Compound
The team separated into their assigned quarters at the US Embassy compound in Beirut. While it was far from a five-star experience, it was a welcome relief compared to the accommodations in Yemen and Somalia. They finally had private quarters. Robinson had teased Capps that she would be unable to sleep without his snoring, as it had become like a sound machine for her. Sasha Liski, on the other hand, couldn’t escape the group fast enough.
The construction for the new embassy sat on a forty-three-acre development near their current location. The new design images were displayed everywhere, and the project budget was over one billion dollars. It seemed odd to Cole that the government was spending so much on a magnificent project, given Lebanon’s pages of dark history with US embassies. More than thirty-five years ago, a bombing at the embassy killed fifty-two people. The following year after the embassy relocated, another attack killed eleven more.
I hope the new design has robust security features, he thought.
The team was well aware of Beirut’s background with the CIA. Hezbollah put the intelligence community on notice several years earlier when its leader revealed the identity of CIA operatives on national television. His message to the CIA was clear. Stay out of Lebanon.
This was the city where the same militant group captured, tortured, and killed the CIA’s station chief, William Buckley. The only loss of a station chief in the agency’s history. He endured fifteen months of wretched torture before his death. Videos were sent by his captors showing him in an incoherent state.
Cole pushed the unwelcome knowledge from his mind. He was here to capture the Lion of Aden’s emissary, Jamil Rasul. For the last two weeks, the team had trekked across Yemen and parts of Africa searching for Rasul. But the CTC intercepted communications and caught wind of Rasul’s travel to Beirut. He was scheduled to arrive in tw
o days. It gave the team a chance to rest and recoup in a secure location.
Now that he finally had some real privacy, Cole thought he would make use of the tablet. It was Sunday afternoon in DC. Maybe I’ll get lucky and catch her at home, Cole thought.
✽✽✽
Washington, DC – Wharf District
Hannah was struggling to select clothing for the Seattle assignment. She liked to pack in advance and not do a last-minute rush around. She also loved traveling light, but a two-week trip was definitely a challenge. She placed another suit jacket in the luggage when the tablet startled her with its obnoxious tone.
Hannah grabbed it from the counter, punched in her unique code, and saw Cole’s face as she flopped on the couch. It had been two weeks since they had spoken.
“Oh, I’m so glad you called,” she said.
“Sorry, we haven’t had much downtime,” Cole said over the screen. She saw he was leaning against the headboard of a bed and didn’t have earphones.
“So good to see your face,” he said.
“And yours looks like you haven’t shaved since you left.” Hannah rubbed her hands over her own cheeks as if she was trying to imagine how his gruff beard would feel.
“How was your trip to Atlanta?”
“It was great. I should hear something in a few weeks. They have a few candidates to vet.” She could see Cole was processing the implications.
“I was actually packing when you called because I’m headed out tomorrow to work with the Seattle Division for a couple weeks.”
“Seattle?”
“I think Pershing is trying to push me out to a new home sooner rather later.” Cole had a concerned look on his face. “But it’s just a temporary assignment in Seattle.” Cole seemed slightly relieved. “Too bad you’re not home, you could join me. I’ll be staying at the Hilton downtown.”
“Yeah, that would be nice. I miss you.”
“My parents’ anniversary is only four weeks away. Are you still sure you’ll be able to make it?”
